


Spirit Capers

by VeetVoojagig



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, F/M, M/M, Paranormal Investigators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 08:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16472009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeetVoojagig/pseuds/VeetVoojagig
Summary: There's a creepy house that John Egbert just has to get into. What, or who, will he find there?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laurasauras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/gifts).



> Happy Halloween, my friend! Hope you like it!
> 
> Also, I'm honestly not sure which pairing or pairings will happen, but at the moment all of them are interested. I guess we'll all find out.
> 
> I binged a lot of Ghost Adventures to research this, I have no idea how paranormal investigations usually go. LMAO.

The city was dark. Lights from the buildings merely cast deeper shadows, and curls of fog obscured even what was illuminated. Anyone walking the streets would move quickly, eager to get within doors once again. Afraid of what would be lurking in the dark. 

This block was once a good neighborhood, many years ago, but it had fallen on hard times. Old houses were in disrepair, other than one or two with quaint historical society plaques marking their facades. Across the street industry had conquered, the homes of the formerly wealthy sundered and rebuilt as low-rent apartment homes. Even in broad daylight a passerby might fear a violent end. In a night such as this…

What city was it? He couldn’t remember. It should matter. But it had been so long. Fingertips trailed along a brick wall. Cold. It should be cold. But everything was cold now. The figure moved forward through the shadows, picking his way through a particular yard, the sign proclaiming the property’s availability hanging from one corner from its stand, swinging loosely in the breeze, its colors faded and nearly unrecognizable. A tree lay across the path to the door, downed in a storm… last month? Last year? Five years? 

Time. It moved like molasses, and yet when one looked around, it was long gone. 

He moved onto the porch, skipping the broken step, and disappeared inside. 

 

John Egbert stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He hadn't expected to be out after sundown, hadn't expected the way the temperature would drop once darkness fell. His sweater had been warm enough that afternoon. He hadn't even felt he'd needed the knit hat--with the ridiculously long, pointed tip that fell halfway down his back, that his sister had insisted she buy him because “It's your color! And it makes you look like a gnome!”--and the scarf that matched it, but now he was grateful. His breath came out in white plumes, mingling with the fog. 

Two more blocks until the bus stop. Hopefully the heat would work this time. He reluctantly pulled he hand out of his pocket, gripping his phone, to check the time. In the second between looking down and actually reading the display a shape loomed out of the mist. 

John yelped and almost dropped the cellphone, catching it just in time to prevent damage. When he looked up again, he didn't see anything. His heart pounded. It had looked like a face. A face as white as the fog itself, right in front of him. He patted his pockets, cursing that he hadn't come out on a job. He didn't have any of his equipment. 

He'd never seen a full manifestation before with his bare eyes. He might have imagined it, but he would literally die if he passed up an opportunity like this. 

Setting his phone camera on video, he started walking the direction he thought the apparition had been moving, praying that he would find it again, and that it would show up on the screen when he did. If he could come back with his infrared and heat sensors and special recorders… 

The fog thinned ahead of him… except in one spot. A wisp on its own, stretching from the ground to a point around six feet high. That had to be something. He quickened his pace and tried to zoom in at the same time, and barely avoided tripping on the cracked pavement. He steadied himself and looked back just in time to see that thin pillar of fog veer off to the side, drifting up a path towards a dilapidated house. He slowly followed, certain he was the only living person to set foot on that path in decades. Everything was falling apart, the yard was unkempt, tree limbs were scattered everywhere, making footing treacherous. 

The figure he was trailing paused at the top of the steps by the door, then dissipated, leaving nothing in its wake. John bounded up the stairs, cursing as he lost his balance on a broken section, but managed to make it to the top. He tried the door. Bolted firmly shut. He sighed. He may have been defeated now, but he’d come back and find a way in. Wait a minute…

He carefully went back down the stairs and headed to the curb. That’s right, he had seen a realtor’s sign there! He made sure the camera got a good shot of the name and number of the agency. He could try to talk his way inside!

Whistling to himself, he turned and headed towards his bus stop once again. 

 

“Is there anything you wish to tell me, David?” 

He blinked, looking at his sister. Here, in his own territory, he could see things as they should be. The interior of the house was exactly as it had been when he had lived there. A girl stood at the top of the hardwood stairs, blonde, eighteen, exactly as she had been. Other than the Victorian dress it pleased her to manifest. She liked playing the part. Dave snorted. “What the fuck are you talking about? If I wanted to say anything I’d say it.” 

She waved a hand and gestured behind him. He turned and saw the wall fade away under her ministrations. “You were followed,” she said coldly, unnecessarily, as they both watched a man come up the path. “Did you, perchance, physically manifest in a public space?”

“And whose fault is that, Rose?” Another voice came from the couch on the other side of the room. Dave looked over to see his older brother sprawled there, holding a well worn copy of a book of Greek mythology. Dave could never tell if his books were real or a memory. He could read them either way. 

The girl descended the stairs gracefully. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, sardonic eyebrow at the ready. “He knows not expose us to outside scrutiny. It isn’t yet time.” 

Dirk raised his head. “I wasn’t talking about that. It shouldn’t be an issue in the first place, and you know it,” he said expressionlessly. 

Dave cringed. He didn’t like the way his brother kept bringing that up. Remembering was… bad. Dirk had never been good at letting go, ever, though. “I just went for a walk,” he said plaintively. His edges were blurring, and that was bad. He shouldn’t, this was _home_ , it was safe. 

He felt arms around him, and he snapped back into the shape of a young man. “Hey, hey, Davey, it’s okay,” a voice said by his ear. He leaned back against his older sister, closing his eyes. “Okay, you guys need to chill,” Roxy went on. “Look what you’re doing to Davey. It’s not a big deal, right? Just a guy. Shit, a pretty fucking hot guy,” she added, looking out the still opaque wall. 

Rose sighed in frustration. “No, you can’t invite him in,” she said coldly. “You either,” she said, noticing Dirk’s head turned subtly in that direction as well. “You know what happens if we’re discovered. Don’t go asking for trouble.” 

“Awww,” Roxy said, pouting. She ruffled Dave’s hair lovingly. Dave glanced over as well. Fuck, she was right, he was hot, in a nerdy kind of way. Granted he was kind of desperate, but he wouldn’t mind getting a little closer to that. 

They all stood silent as the man tried the door, then relaxed as he walked away, with varying degrees of relief and disappointment. 

 

“I’m sorry, you want to _what?_ ”

John clasped his hands on top of the desk, leaning forward and looking earnestly at the woman. “I thought I saw indicators of paranormal activity on the property, so I’d like to set up some cameras and motion detectors and things on the property. Miss, uh…” He looked down at the nameplate on her desk. “Miss Roberts, it would mean a lot to me if you’d allow this.” 

“Sir…” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “We’ve had enough trouble selling the property without adding this type of negative publicity.” Her lips pursed, clearly conveying her displeasure at the prospect. 

He frowned. “Maybe if you took better care of it? It looked in pretty bad shape, you know. People probably don’t want to buy that.”

She tapped her fingers on the desktop. “The property has been on our list for longer than I’ve been working here. Ten years or more. I suppose that putting money into its upkeep became more trouble than it was worth.” 

“Sooooo…. you’re not going to sell it anyway, what would it hurt?” He gave her as charming and hopeful a smile as he could manage. 

She leaned forward and smiled as well. “No,” she said shortly. “And I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” He held up his hands. He had to figure something out. He couldn’t lose this. “What if… what if I bought the house?”


	2. Chapter 2

It turned out it was harder to buy a house than it sounded. Especially when you were an amateur paranormal investigator and you were between day jobs. He’d been to several banks, one of which had actually laughed at him. Nobody appreciated scientific research. This was likely to be an important breakthrough in ghosty science.

There was really only one more thing he could try, though considering it brought a grimace to his face. He straightened resolutely. This was his dream, his big break. Anything was worth it. 

He took a deep breath and pulled out his phone, reluctantly dialing the number. “Uh, hi, Dad,” he said sheepishly when the man answered. “I, uh, I need some help.”

 

John fidgeted in his chair as his father looked over some papers Miss Roberts had handed across the desk. Oh, god, why did adult things take so long? His foot tapped restlessly. 

Okay, so he was twenty four, and technically an adult, but that didn’t mean he had to like it or understand it. Did it? 

“The asking price is very reasonable,” Mr. Egbert said, setting down his papers and raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen the property, though my son assures me it’s what he wants. Is it what’s known as a ‘fixer-upper?’ Is that why it isn’t more pricey?” 

The realtor folded her hands on the desk. She sighed softly. “Legally, I have to inform you of the murders on the premise,” she said. 

John perked up. Yes! That was more like it. “What happened? Who was killed? Why didn’t you tell me when I was asking before?” 

His father put his hand on his shoulder. “John? Is this more of your ghost thing?” he asked. 

“I’m going to live there,” he said defensively. “And my apartment is horrible. But… yeah. I saw something there, and she wouldn’t tell me anything or let me inside.” He bit his lip. “Please, Dad? This could be my big break. And then I’ll work really hard and pay you back everything.” 

Mr. Egbert gazed into his eyes, and John forced himself not to look away. He had to show him just how serious he was about everything. After a tense moment the man nodded slightly. “You know I believe in you, son,” he said softly. He glanced over at the real estate agent. “Please, tell us about the murders,” he said. “John is interested.” He leaned back and gestured for his son to take over. 

She gave the man an incredulous look, but went on in a matter of fact voice. “A family lived there about fifteen years ago. The two younger children, aged eighteen and twenty, were still living at home. The older two, twenty five and twenty eight, had returned on a visit. The mother was away on business, the father, apparently, out of the picture. When the mother returned she found all four of her children dead. There were indications that a cult was involved somehow.” 

John sucked in a sharp breath, almost vibrating with excitement. This was more like it! It definitely sounded like a hotbed of paranormal activity. “We’ll take it,” he said quickly. “Dad’s got the bank stuff, give it to her, Dad.” 

The two adults exchanged looks, shrugged almost in unison, and proceeded to fill out paperwork while John buzzed in the background, his mind whirling with plans. 

 

Roxy appeared on the back of the sofa where her older brother was reading. He didn’t look up. That wasn’t unusual; even before they’d died he’d often been distant. Her hand crept forward, silently inching in until it booped the end of his nose. He finally turned and looked at her, eyes narrowed. An eyebrow lifted as if to say ‘Can I help you?’ without the man uttering a word.

“Hi, Dirky!” she said, beaming at him. She slipped off the couch’s back and into his lap. He moved his book out of the way with a sigh. “What’s wrong, Dirky? Talk to me.” 

He snorted. “‘What’s right?’ would be a much shorter answer,” he said, eyes narrowed. “That answer is, of course, almost nothing. So can we count this conversation as finished, or do you want to prod further?” 

“Awww.” She pouted and leaned against his chest. “I don’t like it when you’re sad. At least we’re together, right?” 

His arms circled her gingerly. He had never been very touchy-feely, but he tolerated it with her, his favorite sister. Or, really, his favorite person, she thought. He could be really standoffish even with their younger siblings, much less strangers. She couldn’t figure out why he so hated being here, away from other people. It should have been his dream come true. She chewed her lip worriedly. 

A noise cut through the silence, somehow tearing across all her senses. She sat up quickly, noticing that Dirk had a pained grimace on his face as well. This was serious, he never lost control of his expression. She looked around in a panic, her eyes widening as she saw that their door was standing open. 

Oh, no. Ohhhhhh no. 

Someone was in their house. 

She watched as a man dragged a couple of garbage bags through the door, a hand on her chest. Her heart wasn’t beating, but it was a habit. Oh. That man…

“Oh, shit. Hottie alert!” she called out to her siblings. 

 

John set his bags in the middle of the main room and looked around. The house was mostly empty, but there were some seemingly random pieces of old furniture lying around. That’d help, at least. Other than his paranormal investigator’s equipment, all he had was some clothes and an air mattress. Most of the stuff in his crappy apartment belonged to his roommate, and he didn’t have a way to move his bed over here. He didn’t really care, though. This was exciting! 

First things first. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder that held his equipment. He very carefully let that down and unpacked it. He had to get cameras set up around the house to catch things while he wasn’t there. The last four years’ birthday money had gotten him a few good pieces, and he’d picked up some cheap stuff when he could, too. One of the night vision video cameras went in the main room, another upstairs in the room he was sleeping in, and another in the biggest bedroom across the hall. He wandered around setting up cheaper cameras in the kitchen, and in the upstairs hallway, and another bedroom. Hopefully those were good places. He’d check footage later and move things around if none of them picked up anything.

And with that taken care of, cameras all rolling, all he had to do was turn on his digital recorder. He sat at the top of the stairs. Hopefully that was central enough that any spirits would be able to gravitate towards him. He cleared his throat and started talking. 

“Uh, hi. My name’s John, I’m going to be staying here for a while.” He paused a moment. “Is that okay? Do you want to say anything about it?” He waited for a short while again, giving time for an unheard answer. “I’d like to get to know anyone who’s here. I bet you’re lonely. I don’t have many friends, so I know what that’s like. Do you want to talk to me?” 

He waited again, then got impatient and started playing back the recorder. It was silent other than his voice, until the very end. He could have sworn… 

He went back again, replaying that small bit again, turning up the volume and holding it to his ear, his heart pounding. That was definitely a whisper. It sounded like…

_...’Sup?_


End file.
